Dusk
Lightly, almost imperceptibly,
dusk quiets and stills the day.
The brightness and youth
of morning vibrates with
exciting expectations
of unknown adventures
waiting to be discovered,
a reaching-out for the new,
the yet-to-be understood,
surpassing the mind’s compass,
the boundaries and limits
of comprehension and imposition.
Time passes, a transmutation
occurs, barely noticed.
The heat of the mid-day sun
exposes newly-discovered
experiences and passions
that subsume all days
with the present, the now,
nothing more, nothing less,
in a momentary phase,
narcissism, an island in the sun.
In time, the sun loses its heat.
We breathe air cooled with a stir
of late afternoon breeze that
tempers passions and desires
and leads to a calmness of mind
with faint birdsong, the music
of rustling leaves and grasses,
and a contentment born of
experience, age, and wisdom
and the beauty of the evening.
In the end dusk slips over the day
lightly, almost imperceptibly.
Copyright ©
Barbara Peckham
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